


Holding Her Hair

by shiptoomuch



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Drinking, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Idiots in Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-14
Updated: 2015-08-14
Packaged: 2018-04-14 14:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4568790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shiptoomuch/pseuds/shiptoomuch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>George is tramping through the little bit of January snow covered in a thick layer of ice when he spots a girl around his age throwing up in the snow. He rushes over and gathers up her messy blonde hair in his hand and holds it just like Katie’s boyfriend did. He rubs small circles into her back until she finishes. When he looks down at her vomit, he notes the bright blue color. “Did you eat too many popsicles?” He asks knowingly. It’s a problem that he is very familiar with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Her Hair

**Author's Note:**

  * For [saintsurvivor](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saintsurvivor/gifts).



> This is dumb but I love these idiots so much.

When George is eight years old, his cousin Katie comes to visit. She stays for two weeks over Christmas break and his parents sigh a lot at her and her boyfriend. She’s loud and wears dark clothes but George thinks she’s funny.

One night Katie comes home late at night and trips into a table in the hallway, waking George up. Katie looks to be sick and her boyfriend helps her stumble down the hall toward the bathroom. George creeps behind them and peers into the bathroom to see Katie throwing up into the toilet and her boyfriend holding her hair. He watches the way her boyfriend rubs small circles on Katie’s back and George guesses this is just how you should treat girls when they throw up.

A week after Katie leaves, George is tramping through the little bit of January snow covered in a thick layer of ice when he spots a girl around his age throwing up in the snow. He rushes over and gathers up her messy blonde hair in his hand and holds it just like Katie’s boyfriend did. He rubs small circles into her back until she finishes. When he looks down at her vomit, he notes the bright blue color. “Did you eat too many popsicles?” He asks knowingly. It’s a problem that he is very familiar with.

“Petey Jenkins said he could eat more than me.” The girl says, jerking a thumb over her shoulder toward the Jenkins’ house.

“Could he?”

She shakes her head and grins a blue-toothed smile. “Nah. I beat him by about five.”

George ogles at her with wide eyes. “Five? Why didn’t you just stop at beating him by one?”

“I wanted to _beat_ him, not just win.” She states like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Don’t you know anything?”

George isn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, so he settles for introducing himself. “I’m George. George Kirk.” He holds his hand out for a handshake.

“Winona Davis.” She slaps his hand in his and shakes it enthusiastically. “We just moved here two weeks ago. It’s cold and Iowa is stupid.”

“I’ve never lived anywhere else.” George says sheepishly, staring at his shoes.

Winona looks like she regrets saying what she did and pats him on the shoulder with her mittenless hand. “Well, I guess it’s good for you, then. The snow is pretty, at least.”

“Even with your puke in it.” George teases and sticks his tongue out in disgust. 

“I should probably bury it. My mom’ll be mad if she finds out I ate popsicles until I puked.”

And because George’s mother is raising him to be a _nice boy_ , he ends up helping Winona bury the bright blue puke in ice snow. And because Winona is most certainly not a _nice girl_ , she shoves a handful of snow down George’s snowpants once they’re done.

Taking revenge does not make him not nice, so George gets her back for that. By the end of the day, Winona is twining her pinky with George’s and making him swear that they’ll be friends “Forever and ever. All right, Dummie?”

“My name is George.” He protests but nods all the same.

-

“I want to drink that.” Winona stares at a tray full of shots that are shockingly blue as the waitress passes by them.

George rolls his eyes. “Win, you and I both know that’s a bad idea.” He had made the mistake of letting Winona pick the bar they went to that night, and now found himself in a bar with bright colored lights and music that was more pounding bass than anything else. There was a dance floor on which people were gyrating with surprising enthusiasm. “Whatever guy takes you home tonight is not going to enjoy holding your hair.”

Winona frowns and shrugs. “I don’t think I’m going home with anyone but you, Georgie. Not in the mood for random hookups lately.”

“Weird.” George raises an eyebrow and tips his beer at his roommate and best friend of almost thirteen years. “But I commend your maturity.”

“Maturity? Please. Maybe I’m just on my period.” Winona counters.

George shakes his head and takes a sip of the shittiest (and probably watered down) beer he’s probably ever tasted. At least _he_ won’t be getting drunk off his face tonight. “Nope. Not for another two weeks. And if it had come early, you would’ve bugged me to buy you tampons by now.”

It might be strange that he knows this, but he’s been living with Winona since they were eighteen and he really does have to keep on top of these things if he wants to survive. Winona is (not) shockingly needy as a roommate. 

"Fuck. We’ve known each other for too long.” Winona shakes her head and runs a hand through her blonde hair, tips dyed pink from just a few days ago. (She most definitely made George help her with that.) “Anyways, I’m totally downing a few of those blue shots and then we’re going to dance.”

She gets up from the table before George can argue and he watches as she flirts with the bartender to get better service. She leans against the bar and gestures toward the waitress with the shots. A few moments later and Winona is back with shot glasses and a bottle of the fluorescent liquid.

“I’m not drinking that.” George states simply. He takes another sip of his truly awful beer to punctuate his point. “You couldn’t pay me.”

“But _Georgie_ ,” Winona whines, “It probably tastes awesome. And it matches your eyes so you basically have to.”

"I'm not going to win this, am I?"

“Absolutely not.”

George sighs and waves his hand in a circle. “Go ahead.”

Winona pours their shots with glee and George downs his at the same time as her. It’s sickly sweet and it tastes like it’s loosely related to a fruit that probably does not exist. And it most certainly has enough alcohol to get Winona completely wasted in no time.

He stops after three shots, at which point Winona is already loose enough to not even notice that he’s not drinking anymore. Once she is well and properly drunk, she drags him out onto the dance floor, shouting about _loving this song_.

George keeps a tight grip on Winona’s hips if only to keep any guys or girls or what have you from taking advantage of Winona and whisking her away when she clearly told him that was not what she wanted tonight. Winona takes this as permission to grind up against him and, really, George isn’t going to complain about how very nice that feels. 

At some point Winona ends up with another drink in her hand, this time pink, and she holds it in one firm hand with the other holding the back of his neck. They’re almost too close for her to drink from it, but she manages, occasionally holding it up for George to take a sip. 

The club is fun, as much as George hates to admit it. The loud music is good to dance to when they’ve been in finals all week and he’s mostly filled with exhaustion. Even the sickly sweet concoctions that Winona so enjoys taste good.

He manages to keep himself sober enough to get Winona home when she’s stumbling around and giggling at everything that he says. Her chipped black nails dig slightly into his bicep when he’s pulling her into their shared apartment. “Come on, Winnie, let’s get you to bed.”

“Bathroom. Need.” She slurs in response and jolts toward the bathroom. George helps her over to the toilet and holds her hair back while she kneels on the ground and vomits bright blue and pink into the white bowl. It really brings him back to the first time they met.

“Geez, Win, you gotta stop doing this to yourself.” He murmurs to her while rubbing small circles into her back. Winona vomits in response.

Once she’s done, he hauls her up to her feet, flushes the toilet, and holds out her toothbrush. “Brush or you’ll feel awful tomorrow.”

He leaves her for the moment to get her a glass of water from their tiny kitchen. When he comes back, Winona is spitting sloppily into the sink and turns to grin at him. It’s crooked and there’s a smudge of foamy toothpaste at the corner of her mouth, but it makes George’s stomach twist all the same.

“Water!” She exclaims excitedly. She downs the glass quickly and smiles again at George, this time much more shy than previously. “You’re so nice to me, Georgie.”

George scoffs but blushes all the same. “Please. If I wasn’t, you’d probably die.”

“Probably.” Winona agrees, slurring as she steps too close to George. She places a hand on the back of his neck. “You’re still too nice. I mean, you always hold my hair when I puke.”

George opens his mouth to respond, but Winona cuts him off by surging forward and kissing him _hard_. George responds in kind but only for a moment before shoving her away from her and holding onto her shoulders to keep her from falling over. “Win, no. You’re too drunk to even remember this.”

“But I love you, Georgie.” Winona pouts and folds her arms over her chest.

She is clearly very drunk and probably won’t remember this come morning. “I love you too, Winnie. So much. But I can’t do this when you’re this wasted.”

Winona nods and stares at her feet. She lets George put her in bed and turn out the light. She’s asleep before he even leaves the room.

-

George’s hangover is not massive, but it’s enough that when Winona bursts into his room shouting, “George Fucking Kirk!” it hurts. A lot.

“Whu?” He sits straight up in bed and grabs at the side of his face with one hand. “What’s wrong?”

“You love me!” Winona shouts and jumps onto his bed. “You love me and you didn’t tell me!”

George narrows his eyes at her. “Well, yeah. What was I supposed to do? I was seventeen when I realized and you’re…you. And you’re my best friend.”

“Since we were _seventeen?”_ Winona shrieks in disbelief. “Is this a joke?”

“Are you mad?”

“Mad?” Winona shakes her head in shock. “George, why would I be mad?”

“Cuz I love you and you know. You’re Winona Davis. I’m just your best friend.”

Winona grabs the front of his shirt and hauls him in for a deep kiss that is much more skilled than the one he gave him the previous night. She pulls away when George is fairly breathless and raises an eyebrow at him. “Does a best friend do that? Of course I love you, Georgie. You hold my hair when I puke and everything.”

“Oh.”

“Dummie.”

**Author's Note:**

> feedback totally appreciated!  
> tumblr: fabtrek


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